Saturdays with Snape
by htdcd
Summary: Why does Harry keep coming to chat with Severus Snape after the war has ended? What closure does he need? What feelings are they both harboring and why are they trying so desperately to suppress them? Has both HP/SS and HP/GW, but not graphic with the boys.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Characters, . mentioned are property of JK Rowling & WB. I do not profit from this._

"What do you want, Potter?" Severus Snape spat at the office's occupant.

"I was hoping we could talk, Professor," Harry sat, weary but fidgeting, in the chair across from the desk.

"It's Headmaster now," Snape corrected.

"Right," Harry nodded. "Sorry. Headmaster. I was hoping we could talk."

"And what, pray tell," Snape pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose in a gesture of exasperation, "Could you possibly want to talk to me about?"

"I'm…not quite sure," Harry answered weakly.

"Oh, by all means, Potter, please be precise," Snape cut sarcastically.

"I just," Harry tried again. "Everything seems so jumbled now that the war is over. I'm not sure what to do."

"To do, Potter?" Snape's eyebrows rose. "And why in Merlin's name would you think I would – or even could – help you with that?"

"I," Harry struggled, "Well, to be honest, sir, you're the only one I trust to be honest with me."

If Snape was surprised by this admission, he didn't show it. He remained silent, leaning back in his chair – one quite different from the chair Dumbledore used to use – crossed his legs, and leaned his head on his hand, temple to finger.

"Everyone else, they…they've either forgotten about me or want something from me. It's exhausting."

Snape looked like he was mulling over his response. "It was my understanding that you were going to begin Auror training."

"I was, but…" Harry trailed off.

Snape didn't respond. If the brat wasn't going to tell him, he certainly wasn't going to waste his time trying to draw it out of the boy.

"I don't know if that's what I want anymore. I feel lost." Harry looked down at his lap and picked at imaginary lint on his trousers.

"Oh for goodness sake, Potter," Snape snapped at him, impatient. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. The war is over. People died. You didn't. Move on. If you don't want to be an Auror, there are plenty of other careers to which your particular…skills…are suited. Or be an Auror, and if you don't like it, do something else. That is one of the benefits of youth."

Harry smirked before he looked up. "Thank you, sir. I knew I could count on you."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Surely you have somewhere else you should be?"

Harry chuckled as he got up and left the office.


	2. Chapter 2

"Has it really been that long?" Snape asked as Harry Potter took the seat opposite the Headmaster's desk.

"I suppose it has. What, am I getting old?" Harry drew one side of his mouth up into a crooked smile.

"One of the only things that is certain, unfortunately. I meant more your hair – you've let it grow. On purpose? Or is this an oversight on your part?" Snape's thin-lipped smirk belied the sarcasm in his tone.

"You don't like it?" Harry ran his hands through his hair, which now went just past his collar.

"I do not care enough to like or dislike. I do care why you are here, interrupting my day." Snape put down the quill he was holding.

"I was a little lonely," Harry admitted. "I missed this place. The things…people…that go along with it."

"Saccharine sentiment," Snape huffed, "typical of a Gryffindor."

Harry smiled full-on at the comment.

"I certainly hope you are not counting on _me_ to relieve you of your boredom?" Snape sniffed.

"I didn't say I was bored," Harry corrected. "I said I was lonely."

"Surely your wife and friends can rectify this issue," Snape waved his hand in the air.

"Talking with them isn't the same as talking with you. There are things they don't…understand." Harry temporized.

"Oh, but I do?" Snape shifted in his chair.

"Better than they do, at least," Harry concurred.

"I hear rumors you've been promoted to Department Head," Snape queried.

"Oh, that," Harry's eyes shifted, uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, I have."

Snape didn't speak.

"It's so frustrating!" Harry banged his fist on the arm of the chair. Several of the portraits jumped, startled at the outburst. "I can't tell if things happen because of who I am or because I deserve them!"

"You think you were promoted because of your notoriety?" Snape surmised.

"No," Harry disagreed. "Yes…maybe…I don't know," he sighed, sinking his head into his hands.

"Why does it matter to you?" Snape prodded, gently – at least for him.

"I don't…I hate thinking people don't think I'm really good at anything, just that I'm capitalizing on my fame…hell, I'm explaining this badly," he ran his fingers through his hair.

"It seems to me you worry far too much what others think of you. You are who you are. Things are the way they are. You can't be someone else. Seems to me it makes more sense for you to get over it and stop giving a damn about what random people think. You have your friends, your wife, as long as they support you, you shouldn't be so riled." As if to give Harry a hint, Snape retook the quill and dipped it in the inkwell on the desk.

"You're right," Harry said, mostly to himself, "Damn it, you're always right. I either have to stop letting it bother me or shut myself up like a hermit so I never have to question anyone's motives." Harry pushed himself up out of the chair. "Thanks, Severus," he smiled genuinely before turning to leave. Snape may have rolled his eyes a little once Harry's back was turned.


	3. Chapter 3

"Another one?" Snape's eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.

"Ginny wanted a girl," Harry sighed. "At least she got one this time, I'm not sure I have the energy for any more than three."

"I trust what you fail to produce will be made up by the remaining Weasley children and their spouses," Snape rolled his eyes in disgust. "Thank Merlin I no longer have to teach any of them." Harry chuckled.

"So you've retired?" Snape redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Yeah," Harry sighed again. "I got tired of it – chasing after the bad guys. I don't have the stomach for it anymore."

"You're a bit young for retirement," Snape mused, "Whatever shall you do to fill your time?"

"I could come back here!" Harry half-joked.

"Absolutely not," Snape was not amused.

"No," Harry said softly, "I suppose I can't. Anyway, I'll be busy doing functions for the Ministry. Consulting, ambassador work, the like."

Snape snorted, "A consultant? For what, how to escape death?"

"Ha, bloody ha," Harry sneered. "You know, I happen to be quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'll have you know."

"Well, you don't need to tell me that," Snape waved his hand in front of him as if stating the obvious.

"Was that a compliment, Professor?" Harry widened his eyes in shock.

"It's Headmaster, Potter, and it most certainly was not a compliment," Snape huffed.

"Yes, perish the thought that you might say something indicating anything but your hatred of me," Harry let the comment out with a bit too much hurt for it to be taken lightly.

Snape let out a gust of air, "Don't be such an infant, Potter. You know I don't hate you."

"Maybe not anymore," Harry said in a low voice, staring at his knees like a school boy.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter, I never hated you. Surely you must know that by now," Snape was exasperated.

"You had a funny way of showing your 'not-hatred' of me," Harry sulked.

"I refuse to inflate your monstrous ego any further, Potter," Snape snapped, picking up a quill and some unidentified paperwork from his desk. "If the only reason you are here is to garner compliments and praise, I suggest you go find someone else. Minerva always seemed more than willing to champion you."

Harry looked at Snape with an indefinable look in his eyes. "It's not the same," he responded quietly.

"Not the same?" Snape shifted forward in his chair, quill poised above the paper, ink ready to drip. "What's not the same?"

"Hearing it from other people. It's not the same as hearing it from you," Harry stated nervously.

Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Please tell me you don't hold me in some pedestaled regard, Potter, I don't think I could bear it."

"No, not on a pedestal, but I think besides Dumbledore I might be the only one who knows a little bit about the true you. And I think you're probably the only one who knows the real me." Harry closed his eyes and sighed wearily, feeling decades older than he should.

"Go home to your wife and children, Harry," Snape ordered him. "You're becoming remarkably sappy, and that is something that bodes well for neither of us."

Harry pursed his lips, deciding whether or not to argue with the man across from him. Finally, he stood up, resolved, and headed for the door. Just before he exited, however, he threw a glance over his shoulder. "We'll have to air it out one day, you know," he said, just loud enough for Snape to hear it.

Snape didn't respond to Harry, and he watched as the thick door closed silently behind the retreating frame. Knowing now that he wouldn't be heard, he replied, "All too soon, Harry. But not today."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I apologize this has taken so long, but...you know...life and all..._

"Did you love my mother?"

Dark eyes narrowed in response to the personal question.

"What would possess you to ask such a question, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "The memories I saw, the ones you gave me…it seemed like you had…feelings for her."

Snape sighed. "Potter, at the time I gave those memories over to you, I believed myself to be dying. I gave you what I had to in order for you to trust me. You had a job to do."

"So you didn't love her?" Harry pushed.

Snape closed his eyes and counted to ten. In three different languages. "Yes, Potter, I loved your mother. Although not in the way you suggest."

"What do you mean?" Harry was puzzled.

"There was a time that I, I suppose you could say I fancied that I loved your mother in a…romantic sense. And yes, these were the memories I gave you. But I realized, as I grew older, that I was…confused…about the meaning of love; about the feeling of love." Snape's eyes left Harry's for a moment, seeming to focus on something in the distance. "I loved your mother like a sister, Potter. She was the closest thing I had to family – family I would have chosen."

"But you seemed so jealous of my dad," Harry pressed.

Snape's left eye twitched. "I thought you knew better than to mention your father in my presence."

Harry had the good grace to give a sheepish look. "I just…I don't know what you meant by 'confused'. How can anyone be confused on what the meaning of love is?"

Snape seemed to think for a while about his response, perhaps so as to not give away too much about his private affairs. "I," he paused, "It took me quite a while to realize that I could have never loved your mother in the way she needed me to. I was…jealous," he ground the word out, "of your father because he could."

Harry frowned as he considered what that might have meant. "The way she needed you to?" he puzzled, "Because you were a Death Eater?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Are you being deliberately obtuse, Potter? Or is your ignorance truly a gift?"

"What?" Harry seemed genuinely unaware.

"I loved your mother, Potter, but I wasn't _in_ love with her. It would have never been enough. I couldn't have made her happy in the way she deserved." Snape looked wistful – and devastated at the same time. It was not a good look for him.

Harry pondered what Snape was saying. "But," he finally continued, "if she had asked, would you have married her?"

Snape answered with an immediacy and sincerity that astounded Harry. "Without a doubt."

Harry did not say anything else as he left the office.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Finally done! Hope you enjoy!_

"James is coming to Hogwarts in the fall," Harry said as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee.

"So history does, indeed, repeat itself," Snape said dryly.

"What?" Harry smiled. "You're all holed up here in your office; you don't have to teach him."

"Thank Merlin," Snape rolled his eyes in mock relief.

"I probably should stop coming by," Harry surmised glumly. "I wouldn't want to embarrass him."

"I cannot for the life of me fathom why you have continued to grace my office with your presence all these years," Snape shook his head.

"Because you would miss me terribly. You did spend so much time concerning yourself with my survival – I think if I didn't visit you, you'd go mad with worry," Harry joked.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter," Snape scoffed.

Harry paused cautiously, before continuing, "Well, since I won't be coming 'round anymore, I suppose I should ask the question I've been wanting to for a long time."

Snape glared dangerously at Harry. "Are you sure that's wise, Potter?"

"I'm reasonably sure you won't hex me for it," Harry attempted nonchalance but failed miserably.

Snape was silent, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back in the chair in a move of practiced defiance.

"So, after my mother died, did you ever fall in love with anyone else?" Harry asked.

Snape was silent as he leveled a scorching stare across the desk. "I was never in love with your mother. I made that clear."

"Fine. So who did you fall in love with?" Harry pressed.

"What makes you think I ever fell in love?" Snape answered too quickly.

"Call it a hunch," Harry retorted. "So, have you ever been in love?"

Snape was overcome with an indefinable emotion in his eyes as he paused a second too long. "I have," he finally admitted. "Only once."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "Only once? Who did you fall in love with?"

"I am reasonably sure you know the answer to that question, Potter," Snape sat stone-still in his chair.

"Humor me," Harry demanded. "Who?"

"I refuse to indulge your curiosity," Snape rebuffed.

"Why not?" Harry sat up straighter, "I won't laugh, I promise. I won't tell anyone else – even Ginny. Or Hermione, although she swears she knows already but she won't tell me. I was sure it was my Mum, but I guess not, so maybe it's someone you think I'll judge you for, but I won't, I…"

"You!" Snape finally cut off Harry's rambling, "I fell in love with _you_, you idiot boy!"

"What?!" Harry's eyes widened and his eyebrows flew into his hairline. He was struck dumb and a deafening silence came over the office. Not even the portraits were breathing. "Me? You're joking! Why me?"

Snape rolled his eyes dramatically and seemed to regret himself. "Believe me, Potter, if I knew that, I would have done everything possible to avoid it."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Harry cocked his head to the side, nonplussed.

"Even _you_ cannot be that stupid," Snape said with disdain. Harry contracted his brow in confusion. Snape huffed out a breath. "Very well. Let's start with the fact that you were in love with Ms. Weasley at the time. And you were a student – my student. And I was pretending to be loyal to the Dark Lord. I'm reasonably sure my telling you about any inclinations I had would have mucked that up considerably."

Harry's eyes were still full of disbelief. "But what about after?" he shook his head. "Why didn't you ever tell me?

"Trying to get this through that obscenely thick skull of yours is testing my patience, Potter," Snape growled. "You married Ginny Weasley; you had children; you are not attracted to men, especially men like me."

"What do you mean, 'men like you'?" Harry crinkled his forehead, clearly disturbed by Snape's assessment with himself. "You mean someone brave, selfless, powerful, strong, and brilliant? Someone like that?"

Snape grimaced lightly in discomfort.

"As for my preferences," Harry continued, a bit more coldly than before, "How could you claim to know what they are when you never bothered to _ask_ me about them?"

Snape seemed to lose his patience, rising from his chair and leaning across the desk, his knuckles white against the mahogany. "And tell me, _Saint Potter_, would it have made a difference?" Snape was nearly shouting, "You seem so affronted, do tell: would my confession have changed anything?"

Harry stood, too, leaning back across the Headmaster desk, shouting back at Snape, looking him in the eye. "I don't know, all right? I don't know! How am I supposed to know? You never told me! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Do you really need more reasons, Potter?" Snape's spittle landed inches in front of him on the desktop. "Do you have some perverse desire to hear me list out the reasons why I chose not to be rejected by the wizarding world's savior?"

"I never asked for that!" Harry yelled defensively.

"That is irrelevant!" Snape shot back. "I did not want to tell you! And that should be reason enough! Don't lie to me and tell me you would have chosen me over that girl!"

"You never gave me a choice!" Harry cried out desperately. "You took that choice away!"

Harry finally paused, chest heaving, and caught his breath. He straightened up off of the desk and hung his arms limply by his sides. He looked at Snape with defeat in his eyes.

"_Every important thing_ in my life was chosen for me. I didn't have any say in who I was, or what happened to my parents, or my destiny with Voldemort. I had no _choice_. You didn't think that in this, at least, in this decision – of whom I would _choose_ to love – you didn't think I _deserved_ to make that choice myself?"

Snape stood up from his desk and sat back down in his armchair. Harry walked slowly around to the back side of the desk where Snape sat. Harry leaned against the desktop, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles as he looked at Snape with indefinable sadness in his eyes.

Snape finally broke off eye contact and looked down as he answered. "No, Harry," he said softly, "_I_ didn't deserve _you_. I wanted so much more for you. So much more for you than me. I knew I could never be what you needed."

Snape's words echoed in Harry's mind as he remembered the same explanation about Snape's love for Lily. Harry closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh of regret.

"But I loved you, too, Severus," Harry opened his eyes to look at Snape. "I did. It wasn't my place to say anything, and you never even hinted you might feel the same way, so…" Harry swallowed. "I'm sorry."

Snape's lip twitched, as though he was trying desperately to repress his emotion. Harry hesitantly reached out his hand toward Snape. He seemed to struggle with something internally, but then closed the distance between them and traced his finger down Snape's temple and jawline slowly. Snape closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, remorse clear in the lines on his face. Harry dropped his hand and walked around to the front of the desk.

"I won't be back," Harry said with a soft smile.

"I know," Snape replied, his thin lips curving upwards so slightly the untrained eye would miss it.

Harry nodded, and withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He waved it and levitated the portrait back to the wall where it usually hung, with the other past Headmasters. Once he was sure it was secure, he turned without another word and left the office, door shutting softly behind him. If he had looked back, he would have seen a single tear running down the cheek of Snape's portrait.

_A/N: I hope no one else guessed the ending! Otherwise I didn't do as good a job as I thought!_


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